


spirit-touched

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: paranormal activities [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sex, Season/Series 03, oh there's a tag for that! good to know.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: “Thank you, Buffy,” Giles said, “but I would prefer to conduct this research on my own. I’ll be looking into some rather…” He felt himself blushing, and resented it. “Some rather intimate details of ghost-human relations.”“What does that—oh god, you want to figure out how to have sex with Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy.
Relationships: Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles
Series: paranormal activities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721797
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	spirit-touched

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone remembers my tumblr circa october 2016, there was a very long pre-halloween discussion conducted mostly through anon asks re: giles and jenny's sex life in a ghost jenny au i'd been talking about with a friend. i started thinking about that discussion again (it was mostly a lot of terrible & very funny jokes, tbh) and this fic somehow came out of it.

Giles had expected quite a lot more anger from Jenny when the truth came out. He’d told her as soon as the candy had worn off, of course—he was trying his best to get out of the habit of keeping secrets from her. He thought he was doing quite well at it, all things considered, especially since there really was no easy way to tell one’s girlfriend one had slept with another woman under the influence of Ethan Rayne’s cursed band candy. He hadn’t wanted to sound like he was making excuses, but at the same time, teenage Rupert had been a _horrible _idiot.

But Jenny didn’t look all that surprised. “You know, I _thought _something was wrong,” she said contemplatively. “What you said to me last morning—”

“What did I say?” said Giles, suddenly very worried. He didn’t remember much about the previous day—only brief flashes of sense memory and disjointed images—and though he recalled a confrontation with Jenny, he still couldn’t quite remember what it had been about. “I hope it wasn’t—you know I didn’t—”

“No, I’m aware,” said Jenny, giving him a strange, crooked smile. “I kinda figured it wasn’t your style to say things like that. Buffy and the kids got on researching as soon as I’d told them how you’d behaved.”

How _had _Giles behaved? Certainly it must have been _awful, _if it had been enough to spur the children into researching. God, the _children _knew what he had said to Jenny and he _didn’t? _This entire mess really wasn’t making him feel all that good about himself—though of course he really didn’t deserve to, not after betraying Jenny so thoroughly. “What—what was it that I said to you?” he asked again.

Jenny ducked her head, still with that practically-plastic smile on her face. She hugged her elbows to her chest. A cold gust of wind blew through the apartment, and she dissipated into thin air.

“Oh,” said Giles, feeling that same spike of panic he did whenever she disappeared like that. Even though she’d promised him, over and over, _I’ll never leave you and I’m never far away, _a part of him did still grieve the bright, lively woman whose life Angelus had snuffed out so effortlessly. The woman who had come back—though still, as ever, the woman Giles loved—was just as dead as the body on his bed, and when she wasn’t there in front of him, he felt her loss quite keenly.

Bizarre, he thought, to grieve the loss of someone who smiles at me every morning. And yet that was the paradox of loving a ghost.

* * *

“What did you say to Ms. Calendar?” said Willow, nose turned up. “What _didn’t _you say to Ms. Calendar? She was _extremely upset, _Giles, and I think you should get her a very nice present or ten to make up for how upset she is at you.”

“She didn’t—she said she knew it wasn’t me,” said Giles, feeling a mixture of shame and frustration. “And I don’t know _how _I can fix things if I don’t even know what I _broke.”_

“Knowing it isn’t someone you love doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to _hear _them say terrible things to you,” said Buffy, who looked just as unsympathetic to Giles’s plight as Willow. “Remember how upset I was about Angelus?”

“I’m sorry, are we comparing my night of brief teenage stupidity to the man who _killed my girlfriend?” _said Giles, the frustration flaring up into outright fury. “I rather think you should rethink your metaphors, Buffy. I’ll readily agree that I was horrible to Jenny, but I shall not be tarred with the same brush as that—_monster._”

To her credit, Buffy looked somewhat abashed. “Fair point,” she said quietly.

Willow placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, still glaring at Giles. “We’re not going to repeat what you said to her,” she said. “It wasn’t very nice and it made Ms. Calendar very sad, and I kind of think that saying it again means that we’re pretending it was worth listening to. If I were you, Giles, I’d give Ms. Calendar some space to process before asking her anything else about what you said.”

“If _I _were you, Giles,” said Xander unexpectedly, “I think I’d try and make it clear to Ms. Calendar that you want to have sex with her.”

Giles recoiled. _“Xander!” _he said sharply, blushing _furiously_. “That is entirely inappropriate _and_ out of line—”

But Willow and Buffy were exchanging a strangely meaningful look. “Maybe it’s not _in_ line,” said Willow, “but if Ms. Calendar comes in all upset because she thinks you don’t care about her enough to even _try _and kiss her—”

“What—” This discussion had gone _uncomfortably _off the rails, and Giles did _not _wish to be talking about his and Jenny’s intimate relations with _children._ “I am leaving,” he said. “I am not coming back in for the rest of the day. Attempt to continue this line of conversation with me again and I will move to China.”

“Giles, you _started _this talk,” said Buffy.

“ATTEMPT TO CONTINUE THIS LINE OF CONVERSATION WITH ME AGAIN AND I WILL MOVE TO CHINA,” said Giles, picking up his briefcase and heading out of the library. A laughing Jenny fell into step with him in the hallway. “Oh, I’m _so _glad you heard that,” said Giles. “I am _delighted _that you are using your spiritual abilities to haunt the library and eavesdrop in on my public humiliation at the hands of three extremely nosy high schoolers. This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“Well, first of all, smarty, I’m haunting _you,_” said Jenny. “Kind of a given that I’ll pick up on some stuff you don’t want me to hear.”

“Didn’t we have that important talk about boundaries?” said Giles. “And the fact that haunting me does _not _technically bind you to me?”

“I mean, _yeah, _but I _really _wanted to know what the kids would have to say when you asked them about your behavior,” said Jenny, who was looking much more chipper than she had in his apartment. “I wasn’t at all disappointed. That was extremely funny.”

_“Are _we going to talk seriously about any of this?” said Giles, stopping in the hallway to turn and face her.

Jenny’s smile remained stubbornly, flippantly bright. “Nope,” she said, popping the P. “It’s resolved, Rupert. I told you I understand why you went to Joyce, and you told me your judgment was impaired by magical candy. I feel like talking about it any more than that would just make one or both of us feel worse about the entire thing.”

“Jenny—”

“It was a mistake,” said Jenny, her voice softening. “I understand, okay? I love you, and I always will.”

This didn’t feel like enough for Giles. “If it really is resolved,” he said, “then why aren’t you telling me what I said to you?”

_That _made Jenny’s smile give way. “If I answer that, will you stop asking me what it is you said?”

It wasn’t ideal, Giles thought, but it seemed a relatively fair trade. “I accept your terms,” he said. “Why have you been dodging the question?”

Jenny swallowed. Then she said, “Rupert, what you said to me…I don’t ever want to hear it said out loud again. And this sounds very dramatic and very terrible, and I _know _you, and I know that telling you even _this _much will make you wracked with guilt, but I need you to stop asking me to repeat something that hurt me so much. So please, _please _just understand that I _know _you didn’t mean to say what you said, and I’m not mad at you in _any _way. Please let that be enough.”

Giles stared at her, a horrible feeling settling into his stomach. Whatever it was that he had said to Jenny, it had hurt her _deeply—_and there was nothing he could do about it that wouldn’t hurt her _more._ “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking.

“It’s—” Jenny sniffled, trying to smile at him. “It’s okay.”

She moved forward, then, and he felt the soft brush of cool air against his cheek. If he focused in on her face, on her hand carefully floating against his chest, he could pretend that she was _there, _leaning into him for support in the way she had done when she was all the way alive. But ghosts were immaterial—intangible—and any attempt to truly touch Giles would end up with Jenny’s hand passing through him.

_And Angel acts as though he suffers, _Giles thought bitterly. _I can’t so much as kiss the person I wish to spend my life with._

Jenny pulled back, eyes still misty, and crossed her arms again, her smile still wobbly and sad. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “I know I—I know how difficult this entire situation is for you, and I’m sorry to put you in this position. You deserve better.”

“I think we’ve quite clearly established that I _don’t _deserve you,” said Giles quietly. “Not if I hurt you so thoroughly that you can’t even bear to repeat what I said to you.”

“You should probably head back to the library,” said Jenny, looking down at the floor. “I—I can head back to your apartment. There’s enough of you there that it still counts as haunting _you._”

“There’s enough of me there because you’ve made that place my home,” said Giles unsteadily. “Please, Jenny, I—”

“Rupert, I just need some space,” said Jenny, looking back up at him with a horribly miserable expression on her face. “It was a lot easier to have that when we were just dating, but this…” She trailed off. “This is kind of an all-or-nothing commitment,” she said. “Sometimes, I really hate myself for being selfish enough to lock you into it.”

“Jenny—”

“I’ll be back at home,” said Jenny, and vanished.

Giles stood in the hallway, _utterly _miserable, for a good five minutes. Then, slowly, as if waking up from a terrible night’s sleep, he shook his head, composed himself, and headed back into the library.

The children were still in the library, milling aimlessly about. “Kinda figured you’d come back in _eventually,_” Buffy began.

“Please,” said Giles. “Please tell me. I’ve—I have to fix this, Buffy.”

“Even though she _knew _it wasn’t you who had said it, she was _inconsolable,” _said Buffy coolly. “And frankly, when I heard what you said, I couldn’t really blame her.”

Giles stared at her, lost. “How can I possibly convince you—” He swallowed, then said, “I love Jenny, Buffy. You know this. Finding her body was an experience I still have nightmares about. I count myself unbelievably lucky that I was given this second chance, and to lose her again through my own—” His voice broke. “I want to do anything I can to make her feel as treasured and valued as she deserves to. My words have made her believe that she is not. Please help me fix this.”

Buffy’s expression had changed. She looked almost guiltily down at the floor.

Quietly, Willow said, “Ms. Calendar made us promise not to tell, Giles, but I didn’t realize how horrible not knowing would make _you _feel.”

“It _was _pretty awful, what you said,” said Xander. “I guess we kinda thought that someone who said _that _to Ms. Calendar, after all she’s been through—”

“Guys,” said Buffy, looking back up at Giles. “This is still _Giles _we’re talking about, remember? President and founder of the Loving Ms. Calendar Club? I think we _have _been a little too hard on him. In his right mind, he’d _never _say something like that to her.”

The tension in Giles’s chest let up, if only by a small fraction. “What did I say to her?” he said quietly.

Willow bit her lip. “Well,” she said, “apparently you woke up and you were…different. Grouchy, snarky, wearing-leather-jackets different. Ms. Calendar asked if you were okay, and you said—” She stopped, looking away.

“You said that, uh, it was probably just the fact that you couldn’t have sex with your girlfriend in the morning,” said Buffy quietly. “You said that it was really difficult to have to deal with dating a ghost, and you thought your life would be a little less complicated if Ms. Calendar had just stayed dead like she was supposed to.”

Giles’s briefcase slipped from his hand. He felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. He _did _remember, now—Jenny’s wide, hurt eyes, the way she’d disappeared in a whirl of her floral skirt and a muffled sob, the way she’d stayed gone for the rest of the day— “Oh, god,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Oh, _Jenny.”_

The disapproval and disdain had vanished entirely from the children’s faces: Willow, Xander, and Buffy were now looking at him with sympathy alone. “Giles, you really didn’t think that to yourself even for a _second _without the band candy, did you?” said Willow, her voice wobbling. “We all thought maybe the candy had brought something out that you hadn’t _meant_ to say to her, but—”

Giles dropped his face into his hands, doing his best not to start full-on crying in front of the children. All he could think about was the way Jenny had said _you deserve something better, _and god, of _course _she wouldn’t be mad at him for saying something like that. Of _course _she would take it to heart.

“We can give you some—some space, if you want,” said Xander uncertainly. “If that helps?”

Swallowing hard, Giles raised his head, well aware that his eyes were wet and his nose somewhat blotchy. “No, I—” His voice was quite strangled. “I should go back—home. To Jenny. Apologize on bended knee, I think, for hurting her so deeply, and then—get her a present or twenty, as Willow suggested.”

“I think I only said ten,” said Willow, looking genuinely worried.

“You’re quite right,” said Giles. “Fifty.”

“Okay, Giles, do you need to maybe sit down?” said Buffy, moving forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t seem like you’re in any condition to drive right now. Wanna…I don’t know, research? You said you like cross-referencing, maybe you should—”

“Research,” said Giles, a half-formed idea taking root in his brain. “Brilliant. Yes. Yes, I’ll—” Reaching down to briefly squeeze Buffy’s hand, he then moved past her, heading into his office. He _knew _he had texts on this sort of thing, he _knew _he had put them aside a while back when they were looking into that poltergeist—_aha! _Right there, a tidy, respectable stack of books regarding ghosts and other paranormal haunting phenomenons.

“Giles?” said Buffy from the door.

Giles looked up. “Yes?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing, can we help?” said Buffy, and gave him a small, tentative smile. “Maybe you founded the Loving Ms. Calendar Club, but that sure doesn’t mean you’re the only member.”

Giles hesitated. “Thank you, Buffy,” he said, “but I would prefer to conduct this research on my own. I’ll be looking into some rather…” He felt himself blushing, and resented it. “Some rather intimate details of ghost-human relations.”

“What does that—oh god, you want to figure out how to have sex with Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy. “Oh god. Oh god, I did _not _need that image in my head, Giles. Bad enough that I have to know what it looks like when you’re sticking your tongue down my _mom’s _throat—”

“_Thank _you, Buffy,” said Giles, his blush deepening. “If you all would mind giving me some _peace and quiet?”_

“Sounds like a plan!” squeaked an equally red-faced Willow, grabbing Buffy’s hand and towing her out of the library. Xander, surprisingly just as embarrassed (despite being the one who had suggested exactly what Giles was trying to do), followed suit with haste, leaving Giles alone in his office.

Tentatively, Giles opened the first book, scanning its table of contents for anything that looked promising. _Somehow, _he intended to properly fix this.

* * *

Jenny was sitting on the sofa when he returned home. As with most ghosts that haunted a specific person, physical objects hadn’t proven as much of a problem for her to interact with. “Hi,” she said, giving him a smile and an awkward wave. “So, Rupert—”

“There’s a spell I’ve been looking into,” Giles interrupted her. “A-a sort of—well, it allows for a spirit to become relatively corporeal for a night. The moon has to be full, a-and there are certain wards that have to be drawn, and the spirit will only be corporeal when contained within the wards, but—”

Jenny held up a hand, giving Giles a sad, tired smile. “They told you, huh?” she said. “Rupert, I-I don’t need you to overcompensate in an attempt to make me feel better. I understand how hard this must be for you.”

“You _don’t,” _said Giles, and stepped towards her, wanting more than anything to pull her into his arms. He at least was touched by others in his daily life—a pat on the shoulder from Buffy, a hug from Willow, that night with Joyce that he was trying not to think about—but Jenny hadn’t had anyone touch her in months. He wished he could give her that. “You can’t possibly—”

And then Jenny moved forward, and he felt cool air touch his mouth and shoulders. Opening his eyes, he saw that she was resting her hands on his jacket, lips hovering close enough to his that they would occasionally overlap. The chill, the anticipation, the emotion evoked by what she was trying to do—Giles felt his breath catch, and wanted her closer.

“I want to give you everything,” she murmured. “Everything I can.”

“What—”

“Sit down,” said Jenny, that quiet note of authority to her voice that she’d only ever brought out—long ago, when she was alive and they were alone and they were in her apartment on a Friday night. Giles obeyed, sitting down on the couch where she’d been, and her hands went to his jacket, sliding it carefully off his shoulders.

“How—” he whispered.

“I’m touching the jacket,” said Jenny, giving him a small, playful smile. “Not you. Loopholes can do a lot.”

“Jenny, you don’t have to do this.”

“Rupert, I _want _to do this,” said Jenny earnestly. “You’ve given up so much to be with me—”

“It’s not _giving up,_” said Giles, and just like that, the moment was gone. Whatever it was they had been building towards—he didn’t want it. Not if this was the reason Jenny was trying to seduce him. “You were never—I would rather have you here than dead, Jenny. It’s as simple as that. I don’t care what capacity I have you in so long as I _have you.”_

“You don’t have me,” said Jenny, that small, broken smile returning. “You can’t touch me. What kind of relationship is that?”

“We can work around it—”

“Maybe we can’t.”

“We _can,_” said Giles. “Please, I—” Panic and grief rose in his chest. “Please,” he whispered. “You said you wouldn’t leave me. Please, Jenny, don’t—”

“God, Rupert, you think I _want _to?” Jenny’s voice broke. “You think I want to do _anything _other than be with you? I can’t watch you _live _like this. I want you to—I want you to have someone who can _touch _you, and I _can’t, _and it’s as simple as _that.”_

“How do you know?”

That took Jenny aback. “What?”

“How do you know you can’t touch me?” said Giles.

Jenny gave him a withering look. Without a word, she stuck out her hand, passing it through his face. Giles felt the ice-cold sensation and shivered involuntarily; she pulled her hand back. “That’s how I know,” she said.

“That’s not what I mean,” said Giles. Carefully, he took off his jacket the rest of the way, then looked steadily up at her. “There are ways to make an impression without touching someone, Jenny,” he said. “Don’t you know this?”

“What are you saying?”

Giles raised his hand, then placed it at the top button of his vest. “What would you do if you could touch me?” he said.

“Rupert—” said Jenny, but the miserable longing in her eyes was being rapidly replaced by a different sort of longing entirely.

“Tell me.”

Jenny stared at him for a few seconds. In a low, soft voice, she said, “I’d unbutton your vest.”

“Slowly?”

“Slowly,” said Jenny, moving forward to kneel in front of him, looking up at him with those beautiful dark eyes. “I haven’t touched you in so long, and I want—I want to savor it.”

Giles let his hands drop. “If I remember correctly,” he said, “you can do _this _by yourself. Loopholes, yes?”

With a small, shy smile, Jenny raised her hands to the buttons, carefully undoing them one by one. Though it was still only through the vest, Giles could feel the phantom brushes of her fingers against his stomach, and all of a sudden, he wasn’t thinking about anything but how much he _wanted _this woman. Wanted her the way he’d had her, so long ago, tangled tight against him and gasping with pleasure—

“What would you do next?” he asked.

If Jenny weren’t a ghost, he felt quite certain she’d be blushing. “I’d—” She slid the vest down his shoulders, discarding it, then moved up on her knees, brushing her mouth against his again. He felt a sharp chill, but this time, it seemed to strengthen their connection rather than distance them: it meant that the woman he loved would give anything to kiss him in that moment. It was drawn-out in the best possible way. “I’d kiss you,” Jenny was whispering, the chill strengthening and weakening as she moved—forward, away, forward, away, hundreds of soft, fleeting ghost kisses that left Giles shivering with cold and arousal alike. “I would kiss you over and over and over again.”

“For how long?”

“God,” Jenny whispered. “Forever?”

“Well, there’s more we can do than just kissing in this scenario, Jenny, try to stay focused,” said Giles, which made Jenny laugh a bit tearfully. “Oh—darling, don’t cry! We’re making love and I’ve _missed _being this close to you.”

“Is this the theoretical scenario where I can touch you?” said Jenny.

“No,” said Giles softly. “This is now. We’re making love, and I’ve missed being this close to you.”

“This isn’t—” Jenny sniffled. “This shouldn’t be enough for you.”

“I love you more than I even knew I was capable of,” said Giles. “Anything you can give me is more than enough for me.”

He felt that sharp chill at his mouth again, and then his shirt was unbuttoned and discarded in the same fashion. Jenny stood up, clambering onto the couch, and awkwardly straddled him, making sure to balance her weight on the couch instead of Giles. “God, this feels ridiculous—” she laughed softly, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” Giles murmured.

Jenny ducked her head, smiling, and suddenly—suddenly the ghostly chill in the room was something more akin to a cozy warmth. This hadn’t happened before. The researcher in Giles wanted to take some notes on what, exactly, had inspired this paranormal _shift,_ but the everything-else in Giles was much more focused on making Jenny smile like that again. She hadn’t smiled like that since—

_Since Angelus, _he realized, and the fact that her soft little Jenny Calendar grin was _returning _made him smile as well. “My love—” He tilted his head up, and this time when she leaned in to meet him, it was warmth he tasted in the air. “I’d kiss you,” he whispered. “Kiss you back. Kiss you _breathless._”

“Hmm,” Jenny sighed, and he felt the couch shift a little underneath him as she moved almost restlessly. “And then?”

“And then—” Giles reached out to touch her, unthinking; his hand passed through only empty air. But then Jenny looked at him, dark eyes alight with a fire he hadn’t seen since the night she died, and tugged her top and camisole over her head, tossing them over her shoulder. They vanished halfway to the floor, leaving her—leaving her—

“God,” said Giles, almost a moan. Part of him was beginning to regret this little experiment. Seeing her like this, not being able to touch her—

“Tell me where you’d touch me,” said Jenny, soft and pointed.

“Your—” Giles was painfully hard and unable to think. _“Jenny.”_

“Tell me,” said Jenny, and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the back of the sofa next to Giles. The warmth was intensifying in the room, cloying and almost stifling, and it only encouraged Giles to reach for her again. Again, his hands passed through empty air. “Rupert,” said Jenny, again in that pointedly authoritative voice that _really _didn’t diminish his arousal, “that’s not what we’re doing right now.”

“Jenny—”

“Where would you touch me?” said Jenny.

_“Here.”_ Giles reached out, this time stopping his hands a few inches away from her waist. Jenny’s own hands tracked his movements, sliding slowly up, one hand cupping a breast while the other splayed its fingers against her neck. When Giles moved to pull her forward, she leaned in closer, and it made him feel as though she really was in his arms. He could _feel _her, very nearly, in a way he hadn’t before—not physically, not really, but in the way she bit her lip and smiled, eyes fluttering shut, head falling back just the way it had when he’d touched her all those months ago.

“I love you,” Jenny whispered, her voice catching.

“I love you,” Giles whispered back.

Jenny shifted again, and coupled with the little gasp she made, he could almost imagine it—the heat, the friction, the way it would feel as she squirmed against him. Clumsily, he moved to undo his trousers—

“No,” said Jenny suddenly, looking down at him with that fire in her eyes. Her hand passed through his, resting pointedly against his erection through his trousers, and god, he could _feel _the warm pressure of her grip on him through the fabric.

“Jenny, I won’t last if you—”

“Then _don’t_ last,” murmured Jenny, her hand already beginning to move against him.

“But you haven’t—” It was taking all of Giles’s self-control not to come right then and there. “I _should _like to reciprocate—”

_“I _said I wanted to touch you,” said Jenny, authoritative and breathless at the same time—and to be entirely honest, it was _that _that pushed Giles over the edge. His head hit the back of the couch and he let out a soft, stuttering gasp—god, _this _somehow felt more juvenile than the candy, and yet it still felt more real and wonderful than any enchantment. It had been fun, with Joyce, but it hadn’t been _this—_charged, magical, Jenny’s love and arousal heating up the room in a way that made her feel closer to alive than dead.

As he returned to himself, the lady in question was looking down at him with wondrous eyes, lips parted. He leaned up to brush his lips against the spot where hers would be, far beyond caring that he couldn’t feel their kiss. “I love you,” he whispered again. “You are more than enough for me.”

Jenny didn’t say anything. She still seemed a bit dazed.

“Do you—” Giles hesitated, not sure how to articulate his question. “Are you still—did you—that is—”

The room warmed a bit more, as though Jenny was blushing. Then, blessedly able to (as always) read between the lines of Giles’s stammering, she said, “I mean, it definitely didn’t feel exactly like it did when I was alive, but I think I kind of _did _get off. So we’re good there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Jenny, and gave him a small smile that didn’t look lopsided or miserable at _all._ “It’s been a while since I’ve seen _you_ come. _Definitely _a turn-on to know I’ve still got it.”

“I don’t think you ever lost it, to be honest,” said Giles, grinning back—and for the first time in a very long while, he felt completely, incandescently happy.

“I think we should track down that make-me-corporeal-so-we-can-have-sex spell you were talking about,” said Jenny.

“I think we should,” Giles agreed.

Jenny leaned forward, and Giles felt the slowly cooling _puff _of air against his cheek.


End file.
